A Star Falls
by Clarinet
Summary: A reflection on Zhuge Liang's life and death. A bit sad. Oneshot.


_(234 AD, near Sleeping Dragon Ridge) _

The cry of a crane startles me out of my sleep. As my head lifts from the chess board, several pieces roll from my sudden motion. I must have dozed off while practicing. These days I play alone; there aren't any great scholars living near who care to spend their hours in the company of a lowly farmhand. I think back to a time many years ago, when things were different, and I feel… hollow.

It is a sensation of suddenly opening my eyes, and seeing the world has grown emptier. I sit up, wondering at the sadness that has pierced my mood. In the heavens, a single, faintly flickering star falls like fire, and fades into darkness. Though I have never been able to read the skies, I understand immediately its import.

He is dead.

The knowledge is like a blow, twisting in my gut. After all these years, the strength of the emotion surprises me. I sit back heavily and blink at the moisture building in my eyes.

When I have recovered, I utter a prayer, and put away the chessboard. There is no need for it anymore.

_(Thirty years ago...) _

When I was a child, I would sometimes run errands for the Zhuge household, or help out on their farm. The middle brother, Liang, was renowned all throughout the region for his brilliance, but I seldom saw him. One day, however, I met him as he was coming through the woods, having just returned from one of his many visits to scholarly acquaintances.

"Oh, Huang Li," he said, remembering my name though he could not have heard it spoken more than once. Removing a pack from his shoulder, he said, "Would you carry this bag for me?"

I took it obediently. It was full of books, and very heavy. We set off along the path for his house, and when we arrived he had me bring the books inside so he could sort through them. I could not read, but I watched in fascination, searching for the few written characters I could understand. Then something more interesting caught my attention. I glimpsed a chessboard sitting on the table outside. Quietly, so as not to draw attention to myself from anyone who might reprimand me, I crept up to the board and examined it.

My grandmother had taught me the rudiments of the game, though I was by no means skilled at it. Looking at the board, on which a game seemed to have been stopped in progress, I tried hard to think of what moves would be wisest to play next. So absorbed was I that I did not notice Zhuge Liang approach behind me.

"Where would you move?"

I jumped, and turned guiltily around, but he did not look angry with me. Hesitantly, I asked, "For white or black?"

"White."

"Well, um… Well, sir, I think… here would be best." I pointed.

Zhuge Liang appeared pleased. "Oh, an excellent choice! It seems you're quite a clever child."

"My grandmother taught me how to play… but she couldn't remember all the rules," I confessed.

"A pity such talent should go to waste. Shall I teach you?"

"Sir?"

"One should always try to cultivate one's abilities. This is as true for peasants as it is for Emperors. I have some spare time at the moment. What about you? Or do your duties require your presence elsewhere?"

Duties? With the Sleeping Dragon offering to teach me how to play chess? I was not so foolish as to pass that opportunity up, and quickly accepted his offer. In a few minutes, I found myself immersed in the intricacies of that game, as laid before me by a scholar ten times as articulate and clever as my grandmother. He was a patient instructor, though a trifle demanding. I found myself struggling to remember things at the pace at which he explained them.

Too soon, the sun sank below the horizon. It was too dark to play any longer, and Zhuge Liang seemed to realize how many hours he had spent teaching chess to a peasant child.

"I have taken enough of your time," he said. "I am sure your family must be anxious about you."

I thanked him profusely for his kindness to me, and departed feeling a deep sense of gratitude. I was elated to have been taught something no one else in my family knew much about, and when I came home I tried to show some of my new knowledge to my grandmother. She was in no mood to play, so I took her chessboard into my room and sat with it long into the night, mulling over the strategies Zhuge Liang had explained to me, and pondering ways to defeat them.

It wasn't until a month later that I had the opportunity to play with him again. On one of his visits to the fields to oversee the farm work, I gathered up the courage to call his attention to me and tell him that I was practicing my chess. Rather than brush me aside or ignore me entirely, as I would have expected someone of his renown to do (for though a recluse, he was very famous), he praised my efforts at learning and suggested we play a game sometime.

"It would be an honor, sir," I said, pleased. I didn't expect him to do it, of course. I thought he was only being polite. But to my surprise, he actually called me over the next day to play. So began a monthly tradition that lasted for many years, up until the time of Liu Bei's three visits. No matter how busy he was, no matter how many people demanded his attention, he always managed to make time one evening for our monthly game. I never won; but I learned something new each time, and in the interval until the next game I would practice. When I wasn't doing farm work or running errands for grandmother, I would sit for hours and mull over the chessboard. And in a month, when I had some new strategy up my sleeve that I was sure would foil Zhuge Liang, he would just as surely tear it down, leaving me to pick up the pieces. But he was always pleased at my effort, and sometimes surprised or even impressed by my ideas.

I remember one time, he invited me over to his thatched cottage when there were a handful of other scholars present. I recognized the names of several of them – including Xu Shu and Pang Tong. It made me horribly nervous to play while they were watching me. But the little fellow nicknamed Fledgling Phoenix was very friendly, and whispered hints in my ears (which annoyed Zhuge Liang, who insisted he let me play by myself). I did reasonably well, even after Zhuge Liang had Pang Tong sit in the corner so he could not relay hints to me.

"You see," Zhuge Liang explained to his friends, "uncommon talent can be found in common places. The most suitable hero of the age might turn out to be a mat weaver, and not a descendant of noble lineage like Yuan Shao."

"That may be true," said Pang Tong, "but you're going to have a hard time discovering your mat weaver. And he's going to have a hard time getting anyone to take him seriously enough that he can attain real power. Sun Quan is no saint; but he is a capable ruler, and a far better choice than Cao Cao. If you don't want your talents to waste away, you should come with me to Wu."

"Sun Quan is small-minded. I think you will regret your choice," said Zhuge Liang.

Pang Tong smiled. "We'll see. Sun Quan has his faults, but I am enough of a realist that I won't count on Heaven to send a saint my way."

They spoke awhile longer, but Zhuge Liang refused to be swayed. Eventually, Pang Tong and the others rose to depart. "Well then," said the odd little man, "stay here and wait for your mat weaver. For the sake of the people, I hope he finds you." As he was leaving, Pang Tong stopped by me and clapped me on the shoulder. "Such a fine intellect should be spent on more than just chess. Get Kongming to teach you a little strategy, or have him lend you his books."

"I will, sir, thank you," I said, embarrassed, for I could not read.

Pang Tong seemed to perceive this. He turned to Zhuge Liang and raised his eyebrows. Zhuge Liang shrugged.

Pang Tong waggled a finger at him. "You're the one going on about 'uncommon talent in common places.' So be a good example for your peers and teach the lad."

"Oh no," I said. "It would be a waste of time. I'd never be able to learn the letters. I struggle enough with chess… it is only Master Zhuge Liang's guidance that has gotten me so far."

"What a polite lad he is, trying to excuse you out of your bad manners, Kongming. You use him to prove a point to us, and what do you give him in return? Now, promise to teach him letters, or I'll keep scolding you, and never leave."

Zhuge Liang laughed. "I promise, he will know them by your next visit."

"Nice try! When will that be? After Sun Quan kicks me out of Wu?"

"It might happen sooner than you think," said Zhuge Liang, amused.

"Teach him within the next few months. It's a shame to let such a talented lad lead so narrow a life. If nothing else, it will ensure someone living here will be able to teach the peasants how to read."

"I will, Shiyuan. I will."

"Good." Pang Tong paused at the door to wink at me, before vanishing with a rustle of ragged clothing.

I was rather embarrassed by the whole scene, and quickly assured Zhuge Liang that he need not abide by his promise to Pang Tong, but he laughed good naturedly and waved my apologies aside.

"No, Shiyuan is quite right. I have been very neglectful in teaching you so much of something not useful to you, and ignoring what every person should know. We will start tomorrow. Come by, and I will explain the basics to you. Or if I am not here, my wife will instruct you."

I felt it was very improper for me to be taking up his time in such a way, but having given his promise to Pang Tong, he was insistent, and for the next few weeks he and his wife, Yue Ying, took turns instructing me. She was a plain-faced, but remarkably talented woman, who could read the stars and wield a scythe with extraordinary skill. After I had learned to read, I taught other peasants, and the little area in which we lived became quite literate. Zhuge Liang continued to meet me for our occasional chess games.

One frosty winter morning, Liu Bei came. Zhuge Liang and I were playing chess in the back when a servant announced him. Without a moment's hesitation, Zhuge Liang gave a wave of his fan and ordered the servant to inform the lord he was not home. I looked at him in astonishment.

"Liu Bei? He is here? Didn't you mention him to Xu Shu as a man of extraordinary ability?"

"Did I?" said Zhuge Liang absently.

"You did, sir, as I recall."

He smiled and moved a piece on the board. "We shall see… If this Liu Bei returns a third time, I will have something to say to him."

I thought about that for a bit before I asked tentatively, "Do you think he is your mat weaver?"

Zhuge Liang laughed. "Well, he _is_ a mat weaver, but whether he is a saint or another wolf scrabbling for territory will be proven by his deeds. What I have heard of him is good, but I will judge him when I meet him."

"You think he will return?"

"If he doesn't," said the scholar dismissively, "He is not worth my time."

I did not reply to that, but I was beginning to wonder if Pang Tong's prediction of Zhuge Liang's talents wasting away unused would not prove correct. Not that I wished him to leave – on the contrary, I would greatly miss his company if he went off to serve some master – but, for his own sake, I hoped something would turn up. I knew that despite his apparent calm and his detached attitude towards the world, he burned with ambition. The suffering of the land and its people weighed heavily on him. He wanted to do something for the world.

Maybe that motivation was part of the reason he spent time with me. Maybe, in some small way, helping me quelled the restless yearning inside him. It was a slight good in a large world; but it was a sort of good deed nonetheless. But in spite of that… I could see the ache in his soul was growing.

_ (A few months later...) _

On a beautiful spring day, Liu Bei made his third visit. I was not around to witness most of it, but that afternoon when I came over to deliver a manuscript to Yue Ying, I found the household bustling for Zhuge Liang's departure. One of the servants explained to me that Zhuge Liang, moved by Liu Bei's plea, had decided to go with him, and direct all his energies towards restoration of the Han.

The suddenness of it all dazed me. I stood outside, and nearly forgot to deliver the manuscript to Yue Ying. She noticed me on her way out, and thanked me for bringing it. Zhuge Liang bade me a brief farewell, then he and his wife mounted their horses. They bowed to the members of the household and servants they were leaving behind.

A little ways down the road, Liu Bei and his two brothers formed an imposing trio against the green splendor of the woods. I will never forget the sight of those three… of Guan Yu, mighty as a god of war on his red steed, and Zhang Fei, like a tiger at his brother's side. And Liu Bei… The mat weaver. When his eyes caught my stare, he did not frown disdainfully or glare. His lips turned up in a smile. There was kindness in his eyes, as much for the lowliest peasant as for anyone else in the world.

Here was Zhuge Liang's master. I lowered my eyes and bowed.

Zhuge Liang and his wife rode out, but they paused a short ways down the road, and turned to look back. I could see hesitation in the scholar's face. Heaven or chance had brought to him the means to make some change in the world. Yet on the verge of rising to the task set out before him, he was drawn aback, by the light and leisure of a simple life. Here in his cottage, below the soft moonlight, listening to the gentle breeze rustling the trees, he had often played the zither, or finished up a game of chess. The peace he had enjoyed he would miss forever, once he had gone.

He briefly caught my glance. I was mute then, but I felt a chill wind rising in the air, like some keen sense of foreboding. My heart was heavy with inexplicable sorrow. I should have been glad for him, but something… something urged me to beg him not to leave us.

Yet it was his wish to go. He had long cherished the notion of joining the world's fray, and setting the course of history. I saw the pain of leaving fade from his face as he turned away from us, though it was not entirely conquered.

"Will we ever be coming back?" asked Yue Ying.

"We will," he assured her. "Sooner or later we'll find a way to live here again. After our task is finished and the Han restored… we will come back to this place."

They set off down the road, joining the three brothers. I and the other servants watched until they were gone.

I prayed Heaven would not prevent him from seeing his home again, after his great task was over. In the meantime, I decided to keep up my chess skills, so that when he came back, we could resume our custom. By then, surely, I would be able to beat him.

_(234 AD) _

Alas, Heaven so often thwarts the greatest dreams of men, whether they are dreamt by geniuses, or emperors… whether they are large dreams or small, simple dreams such as my hope for Sleeping Dragon to return home, so that I could at last beat him at chess.

When I learned the details of his death, many months after that night I saw the star fall, I thought back to that day so many years ago, when he left us for good. I thought of his hesitation, and the reluctance in his eyes to leave this place that was his home. He had been so certain he would return someday… If only I could have warned him then.

And yet I think perhaps some part of him felt it before it happened, like time slipping back on itself, so that the soul became aware of distant echoes of the falling star and Wu Zhang Plains, and wondered… _Will I see Sleeping Dragon Ridge again?_

But the brief hesitation was cast aside by the hope of the present. For all his powers of prophecy, he could not have foreseen the lifelong toil he would undergo for Liu Bei, or the ease with which Heaven sweeps all men's efforts aside, and reduces them to dust. We fight, we struggle, we die, and the azure sky sweeps on and on, unchanged and unnoticing of our greatest and most petty deeds.

Life is a brief spark, a quick flash in the sky, and afterwards… maybe the star never was there at all.


End file.
